Darkest Hour
by rhys16
Summary: The journey of a man struggling with the demons of the world and a girl haunted by the demons of her mind. Can two people so broken find solace in each other? A story of healing and moving forward while creating something beautiful along the way. Post War. HG/SS. AU.
1. Oblivion

_The journey of a man struggling with the demons of the world and a girl haunted by the demons of her mind. Can two people so broken find solace in each other? A story of healing and moving forward while creating something beautiful along the way. _

* * *

Hermione Granger was struggling with the post war life.

It had been six months since Voldemort had been defeated at the battle of Hogwarts and Hermione still hadn't adjusted to a mundane routine. Now that normalcy was a familiar aspect of her life she didn't know how to move forward. Promptly after the war she was pulled and prodded in fifty different directions by the media, the Daily Prophet was doing backflips trying to get a photo of the Golden trio. Now that the Dark Lord was gone and crime rates were at an all-time low and there was nothing left to talk about except the gossip of the war heroes.

The wisest witch of her generation was at a dead end, nothing seemed to make sense to her anymore. Everything around her seemed to be moving at record speed. It was like she was stuck in a car watching out of a window. Promptly after the war, Harry and Ginny moved onto Grimmauld place, ready to move on with their lives. If the Chosen One could pick up the pieces of his life after all his horrors, why couldn't she?  
She missed her friends; especially Fred, Tonks and Remus. She was still mourning the deaths of the fallen but couldn't come to accept that she would be living without them.

And then there was Ron. She hadn't talked much with her redheaded best friend. Ron had shown a romantic interest in her after the war, most likely because of the heated kiss they shared six months ago. But Hermione wasn't quite sure if the kiss was a result of true feelings or the rush of adrenaline and desperation that war brought.

Hermione sighed.

She was currently back at Hogwarts finishing up her seventh year. Lost and dazed after the war she returned back to the one place she could seek solace. Her beloved school and library brought her some form of peace; but as comforting as the old castle was she felt as if she was stuck in a limbo state.

It was about half 6 and she was holed up in her dorm with her nose in an Arithmancy textbook. The Headmistress had named her Head Girl when she informed her she was returning to Hogwarts; she had her own dorm space due to her status of Head Girl. She was in no mood to go down to the Great Hall to mingle and eat. The amount of missed dinners were accumulating, her knitted jumper was sliding off her bony shoulders. She was looking weaker and pale compared to her usual healthy glow.

A soft feline rubbed against her side and Hermione welcomed the half Kneazle warmly. The one constant in her life came in the form of a large ball of bronze fur.

"Hey Crooks" she mumbled into his fur as she pressed her nose into the mountain of hair. She thought about the rainy night that she went to retrieve her familiar in Melbourne. But she shook her head back and forth as if she could shake the memories right out of her head and stomp on them.

Leaning against the soft cotton red and gold sheets she put her book on the wood night stand and murmured a quiet 'nox' and the room turned a silent black.

* * *

Severus Snape couldn't sleep.

The recent War had taken a toll on a usually resilient wizard.  
Ever since the War insomnia had tormented him for hours at a time. On a good night he got one or two hours of sleep, not nearly a sufficient sleep to teach a full day of Potions.  
After he had dealt with the repercussions of the War, like avoiding getting sent to Azkaban and facing many Death eater trials he thought he could resume some normality. But everything was a reminiscence of the horrors that he was force to face during the war.

Sometimes he wished he had not survived that night at the Shrieking Shack but deep down he was scared of death. Scared of the oblivion and uncertainty that came along with dying. _Coward _he thought. But now that he was back at Hogwarts he felt his life was filled with nothingness.

_Lily would never come back._  
_Her son did not need protecting._  
_He was no longer needed as a spy._  
_Perhaps he truly had no purpose any more._

He sneered and thought about the dunderheads that might be in the corridors snogging and causing mischief. He slipped out of his bed and put on a black cloak. The dark silky fabric engulfed his long, slender limbs; he walked out of his quarters and began scouting for Gryffindors.  
He started to feel the fatigue and the sharp cracking in his joints but regardless of the aches in his body he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.

Snape walked briskly toward the Gryffindor tower.

And that's when the screaming started.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello all! I'm really excited to start this story and my journey as a writer. This happens to be one of my favourite pairings. If I have readers I would love for people to review just to see if people are interested in my writing and if I should continue. I have a great vision for this and I hope you all enjoy it. I'm going to try my hardest for regular updates! Thanks! Love Rhys.**


	2. Confusion

A sharp, ear piercing scream filled Severus' ears.

He quickly spun around to locate the noise. His bellowing cloak swished around as he picked up his pace. The halls were eerily empty that night. The portraits on the wall seemed undisturbed by the sound. For a second he wondered if he had imagined it until another blood curdling scream echoed through the halls.

Snape started to sprint down the hall until he reached a set of doors.

"Mate I reckon it's coming from in there" a portrait of a cowboy said, while pointing to a small burgundy door with a small sign that read "Head Girl".

_Granger? Was it her that was letting out that awful racket? Would the Gryffindor princess even care for his help or would she be even more terrified at the sight of me… _Snape tightened his grip on his wand and hesitated at the door.

That was until he heard muffled screams and without another thought, he said a quick incantation to bypass her wards. The door flew open and shut behind him. He entered the small dorm space. He took a quick survey of his surroundings. To his left there was a small kitchenette and an island. Further into the room there was a glass coffee table and red couch. _Bloody Gryffindors_ he thought when he noticed the red furniture.

He slowly crept through the doorless frame into the next room. And what he found there shocked him.

Hermionie Granger was wearing a dark navy sweater and shorts that were so small he could see the contours of her arse. He noticed her long lean legs and couldn't help but admire the pretty witch. _Stop it Snape, you old fool. She is not to be ogled at, she is your student for god sakes._ Her fists grasped her sheets in a desperate grip and her face was buried deep in her pillow. The muffled sounds of terror started to change to soft mewling whimpers.

Snape stood there watching her, never in his life had he experienced this level of confusion. She was not in any immediate danger and there was nothing he could do to protect her from the dangers of her own nightmares. If he spun around on his heel and walked out of the small dorm, no one would be the wiser. Yet he was rooted to his place.

"Please stop, I told you I found it. Please I didn't steal it" she mumbled, sounding like she was in pain. Followed by another stifled scream.

Not quite sure what came over him, he floated over and kneeled on the ground by her head.

"Granger, wake up" he lightly nudged her shoulder. He received a small groan in response.

"Granger I-" he was cut off by Hermione as she grabbed the hand that was nudging her shoulder. She had rolled over and latched both of her small hands to his. Her hands felt soft against his rough, calloused hands that was an unfortunate byproduct of his years of potion making. Snape was shocked at her appearance. Sweat made her already messy hair cling to her face and she had dark tear streaks streaming down her face. He starred at harsh lines that graced her usual soft features.

"Stay" she breathed. She had said it so clearly he was sure she was awake.

Severus stared at the witch as she started to take deep steady breaths and the tortured expression on her face started to melt.

Despite the voice in his head trying to warn him of the grave choice he was making but he couldn't help but succumb to the vulnerability in her voice. Not entirely sure if it was the lack of sleep that caused him to take his legs out from under him and sit down or complete insanity, but he decided not to fight the numbing feeling washing over him. He slumped over and put his head on their clasped hands. In seconds Severus did what he had not been able to do in months. He slept.

* * *

Hermione's hand was numb.

Her eyes shot open expecting to see the horrors of her dream starting back at her. But instead she basked in the sunlight that shone through the cracks in her curtains. This was one of the few times since the war she didn't wake up screaming or with silent tears leaking from her eyes. She tried to move her hand to brush the hair out of her eyes but it wouldn't budge. Her eyes fluttered as she turned over. Her whole body froze.

A black mop of hair was fanned over her hand; she could feel the warm moisture between their skin. _What happened last night_ she thought. _Who- _

The movement of her hand must have woken her mystery person up. He groaned and lifted his head. Kind eyes looked straight into her questioning ones. But in an instant a cold, hard expression ghosted over his face.

"Professor, I- Uh-" she stuttered while looking at their intertwined hands. Severus seemed to snap out his sleepy daze and yanked his hand back to his side as if she had burned him. He snapped straight up and grimaced at the pain in his legs that had resulted from his cramped position on the floor. Snape backed up until he reached a small armoire.

Hermione carefully looked over the man in front of her. His hair was flat and disheveled from sleeping on her floor and his black cloak was ruffled on his side. She could barely see his lean body under his cloak but she did notice his long slender yet muscular arms. She found herself admiring his rugged morning look. _Stop it Hermione he is your professor for bloody sake._

"Miss Granger it seemed that you were quite distressed last night and I came in to stop your bloody screaming before you woke the entire castle" Snape said in his usual low drawl.

"Why were we holding-"

"When I attempted to wake you grabbed my hand in an iron death grip. It was late, it seemed that I had fallen asleep" Snape looked rather abashed and his eyebrows had formed deep creases. He ran his pale hand through his greasy black hair.

Hermione stood up and noticed his eyes drift towards the floor. She then noticed her state of undress. Her jumper had slid off her shoulder and it barely covered her black boy shorts. A rushing of blood burst in her cheeks as she scrambled for a dressing robe.

"Well I just haven't been sleeping lately, I had no idea…" Hermione was still confused by the whole situation but she was sure that she saw a flicker of concern in his dark eyes. But as quick as it surfaced it was quickly replaced by his usual look of indifference.

"I must be on my way it is highly inappropriate for a professor to be in a student's dorm. Please refrain from your banshee screeching in the future. I'll just…" he walked hurriedly to the door and didn't once look back at her. The door slammed and Hermione collapsed back onto her bed. She looked up at the ceiling.

_What just happened?_

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey guys. First I want to say how happy that I am that I have some positive reviews and followers. They honestly give me motivation. I really hope you guys like this chapter, this scene has been floating in my mind for so long I hope I did my vision justice. As an amateur writer I always welcome suggestions, criticism and ideas. Love you all, Rhys.**


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